


Normal

by MsImpala67, orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Dry Humping, Edging, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Slow Burn, Teasing, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's not often that Sam and Dean get time to themselves to just be normal. Dean wants to stay in bed. Sam wants to use the time to do chores. They try to reach a compromise during their day of domesticity.





	Normal

Dean hated waking up alone. It gave him an eerie, worried feeling. Even if he could hear Sam in the kitchen or the bathroom - if he couldn’t  _ see  _ him, it wasn’t good enough. Sam had warned Dean that he was going to get up, they needed to go shopping today and Sam was nearly out of clean shirts. The laundry detergent was low and they were out of eggs. But the bed was just so damned  _ comfortable _ . Even a stone cold hunter had to succumb to material pleasures once in awhile. So he’d slept in. And now he was awake - and Sam wasn’t in bed next to him. The bed was cold. Dean could hear their shower running, soothing the growing panic in his chest.

Blinking sleep out of his eyes, Dean could see Sam’s flannel and t-shirt slung over the back of the chair and his jeans, socks, and underwear on the desk. A slow smirk spread across his face. Sam  _ knew _ he hated waking up alone, sleeping in or not. This would show him.

Dean climbed out of bed, tugging on his own boxers before walking toward the door. On the way, he snagged all of Sam’s clothes, bunching them up and tossing them into the dirty laundry hamper. He picked it up and walked out of the room, whistling contentedly as he went. 

There was enough detergent left for one load. Dean stuffed the washer full, pulling only Sam’s clothes out of the hamper, making sure there was nothing left for him but a few pairs of dirty underwear. He was still chuckling to himself when a deep, annoyed shout sounded down the hallway. 

“Dean! Where are my clothes?”

“In the washer,” he called back, totally innocent.

It only took a few seconds for Sam to appear in the doorway, towel hanging low on his hips, water dripping from his hair and running in glistening drops down his chest. “You washed the clothes I was going to wear, didn’t you?”

Dean feigned confusion. “What? The clothes on the desk weren’t dirty?”

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed his wet hair back out of his face. “You did this on purpose.”

Dean grinned, letting his gaze run over the length of Sam’s body. It didn’t matter that he had memorized every inch with his eyes, his hands,  _ and _ his mouth. It didn’t matter how many times they’d stood just like this, half-naked without even thinking about it. Dean would  _ always _ take the opportunity to stare at Sam. “Yeah, well. We’ll just have to get back in bed while these clothes wash.”

“Seriously?” Sam still sounded irritated, but the tension in his shoulders relaxed a little. “You couldn’t just get up and run errands with me? You’re such a baby.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Bed. Let’s go.”

Sam stepped back when Dean reached for him. “I don’t think so. We have things to do today, Dean. And we’re doing them whether or not I have clothes. So you can either sulk alone in bed all day, or you can come help me with these chores until the laundry is done and maybe, just  _ maybe _ we’ll get done sooner and you’ll get me back to bed.”

Dean stared at Sam, his eyebrows raised, but Sam stood his ground, blinking dully. Dean finally rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. What chores do we need to do today?”

Sam’s grin grew impossibly wide, his dimples deepening. Dean could never resist that face, even if he tried.

“We’re reorganizing the library.”

Sam pulled the towel off and tossed it into the hamper, shaking the remaining water out of his hair before trotting off toward the library. Dean followed after, looking between the towel and Sam’s retreating ass.

“Naked?” He cried.

“What else am I supposed to wear?” Sam called back.

Sam was already climbing onto the ladder braced against one of the shelves when Dean reached the library, stopping at the table to admire the view. Water from still-damp hair dripped over Sam’s skin, following the trail of his muscles,  rippling when he reached for books above his head. His ass clenched and unclenched with the strain of it, and Dean could see the peak of his limp cock through his legs, spread with the way he balanced on the ladder.

“Care to give me a hand, Dean? Or am I doing this all by myself?” Sam asked, drawing Dean’s attention up.  He had an armful of books, bracing against the shelf and offering the best bitchface he could throw in his brother’s direction.

“Do you really need my help?” Dean grinned like an idiot, unable to stop himself as he looked at Sam.

Sam’s expression didn’t change. “Well, the more you help, the faster it gets done.”

Dean considered that for a moment, then planted himself in a chair. “You know what? Maybe you should just take your time. Make sure it gets done right. It is  _ your  _ library after all, isn’t it? I’d probably just mess it up.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Sam laughed, his hard demeanor finally cracking. “You’re lazy and you like looking at my ass.” He turned and grabbed one more book, muscles flexing as he carefully climbed down the ladder. 

Dean leaned forward and reached out a hand, tracing just the tips of his fingers over one of Sam’s round ass cheeks. “I like touching it more.”

Sam didn’t move closer, didn’t lean into it, but he didn’t pull away. And that was all the invitation Dean needed. He pushed out of the chair and onto his knees behind Sam, licking down the base of his spine, not stopping until he had Sam’s ass spread apart and his lips sealed around that perfect hole. Sam let him do it, spread his legs a little and leaned forward, hands on the table in front of him. He sighed and whimpered exactly the way Dean knew he would, the way he always did.

But when Dean tried to thrust, tried to get his tongue inside of Sam, he pulled away. 

“We’ve got work to do,” he whispered, a little shaky.

“Sam.” Dean stood and pulled Sam into his arms, their bare chests sliding together, their cocks nudging against each other through Dean’s boxers. “We got all day, baby boy. To do  _ nothing _ . Come on. Let’s just relax and enjoy it.”

Sam leaned in, nosed around Dean’s neck until he found the pulse there for him to kiss and suck on. 

“Shit, Sam,” Dean groaned, tilting his head back. 

Sam lapped at Dean’s skin, leaving cooling, damp spots, only to be warmed by Sam’s mouth once more.

“You know you’re gonna be the death of me,” Dean muttered as he grazed his hands down Sam’s bare arms. Calluses from years of fighting and shooting scraped over the flesh he’d memorized over and over, and Dean didn’t miss the small shiver that ran through Sam’s body at his touch.

When he reached Sam’s shoulders he pressed down, eyes fluttering shut when Sam complied. He left burning kisses down the expanse of Dean’s chest, hesitating for just a moment to suck and bite at the rosy bud of Dean’s nipple before continuing his journey.

Sam grabbed the leg hems of Dean’s boxers, tugging them down inch by inch. Dean gritted his teeth, digging his fingers into Sam’s shoulders.

“Don’t you think you’ve teased long enough?” he asked. Sam’s breath was hot on his stomach, tickling the light hairs under his belly button.

“You washed my only clean clothes. I have a right to tease. You’re lucky I’m doing anything for you.”

Dean’s head fell forward, bottom lip tucked between his teeth in a patented Dean Winchester smirk. “Admit it, you want it just as bad. Not like you can hide it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Sam’s cock hung heavy between his thighs, hardening more as each minute passed.

“Never said I didn’t want it. Now shut up.”

Dean’s teeth clicked shut on his snarky response when Sam yanked his boxers down the rest of the way. He wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s cock, giving it a gentle stroke.

“Sam—“

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam warned. His lips wrapping around the flushed, sensitive tip of Dean’s cock was enough to get Dean to obey. He watched Sam with a heavy-lidded gaze, fingers stroking through chestnut locks he used to comb – and still did at times.

Sam’s lips stretched wide around his girth as he swallowed Dean down, inch by inch until his tip bumped the back of Sam’s throat. And then back, the slow upstroke of Sam’s tongue, the barely there graze of teeth that would have made Dean nervous if it was anyone but Sam. Sam could do anything. Dean was wrapped around Sam’s long and dexterous little finger.  

Dean’s cock throbbed against the smooth slide of Sam’s tongue, his balls tightening just a bit. A quiet moan slipped from his lips, eyes fluttering shut just for a moment. And it was that moment that Sam pulled back with an obscene pop, licking his lips.

“We have work to do, Dean,” he said, standing and pressing a kiss to Dean’s slack jawed mouth.

“You’ve gotta be kidding... _ fuck _ , Sam.”

Sam pressed up against him, slid his tongue into his mouth in a deep kiss, both of them tasting themselves on the other. “Come on, Dean. Do this with me. You said yourself we have all day. I wanna spend it like this. With you.”

Dean shivered, already nodding and giving in, giving Sam anything he wanted. Always. “Okay, Sammy.”

Sam nuzzled into his neck, hands rubbing up and down Dean’s back, silently thanking him. 

“One thing though,” Dean said.

“What?”

“I’m not reorganizing the fucking library until I’ve eaten.”

Sam laughed. “Deal.”

They padded to the kitchen naked, fingers twisted together, only letting go when Dean opened the refrigerator and began pulling out the things he needed. 

“We still have some bacon, and I can probably make some pancakes. But we really gotta get to the grocery store at some point.”

Sam planted himself on a stool and grinned as Dean set everything he needed on the counter, washed his hands, then pulled on an apron. Dean made a face when Sam raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m not frying bacon naked, Sam. Grease spatters.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I, uh.” Sam’s eyes raked the full length of Dean, head to toe. “I kinda like this look.”

Dean rolled his eyes and began to cook. He was quick and efficient, like he was with hunting, getting the job done and cleaning the mess along the way. Only a few minutes passed before he was setting a plate down in front of Sam, a couple of pieces of bacon next to a short stack of pancakes, everything covered in butter and syrup.  

They ate at the counter, knees touching, the only sound in the room coming from their forks hitting their plates. Sam took his last bite, then ran his finger through the pool of leftover syrup. Dean didn’t hesitate to suck it clean, to get his tongue into that sensitive spot between Sam’s fingers, where he could tease. Sam closed his eyes and huffed a deep breath, enjoying it for a moment before he offered Dean another syrup-covered finger. They took their time cleaning their plates that way, sucking the syrup from each other’s hands and lips until they were both half-hard again. 

“That was delicious,” Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth.

Dean ran a slow, soothing hand over Sam’s stomach. “Good. You need a nap now?”

“Nice try,” Sam grinned. 

Dean slid off the stool and onto his knees, pulling Sam around and spreading his legs wide enough to slip between them. He kissed a line from Sam’s chest down to his belly button, then followed the dark trail of hair down to his cock, swelling at the attention. 

“What about this?” he asked, dipping down to suck at Sam’s balls. 

Sam groaned, spread his legs wider, thrust his hips forward. Dean licked and kissed Sam’s balls, swirling his tongue around until they were wet and messy. Sam’s cock bumped at his face with each movement, insistent and impatient, but Dean ignored it. 

He waited until Sam’s fingers tugged at his hair, trying to move him where they really wanted him, then pulled away. 

“Don’t we have a library to organize?”

Sam’s breath slammed out of his lungs in a frustrated groan, head falling backwards. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Dean’s grin widened. He used Sam’s knees to pick himself up off the floor. “You started it, little brother. Come on.”

Sam whined softly, reaching out. His fingers barely brushed over Dean’s cock before Dean spun away, out of his grip.

“Nuh-uh. Come on, Sammy.”

Sam followed Dean to the library, openly leering at him along the way. Dean had always been the leaner one, but that wasn’t to say he couldn’t do damage of his own. Sam preferred it that way. Dean didn’t need the size to dominate – he just  _ did _ .

The muscles in Dean’s calves and thighs bulged with each step, the bow of his knees begging to be stroked, licked, settled between while Dean screamed for release. His back curved, shoulder blades sliding under firm, deadly muscles; Sam’s fingers itched to dig into those muscles, graze his teeth over the curve of Dean’s freckled shoulders, worship him in a way that brothers never should.

Sam didn’t realize Dean had stopped walking until he slammed into him. They stumbled forward.

“Dude. Walk much?”

“Sorry, I got distracted,” Sam admitted, his cheeks pinking up a little. Dean’s eyes narrowed before he smirked, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

“Distracted, huh?” He wiggled his ass, grinding against Sam’s crotch. “Like what you see?”

“I’m about to beat what I see,” Sam threatened without venom, pushing past Dean. He gave a shout of indignation when Dean swung, the crack of his hand against Sam’s bare ass echoing through the library.

“You’re sexy when you get mad.”

Sam tried to scowl. He really did. But Dean had that infuriating big brother smile shining full force, his eyes crinkling just right in the corners. Sam found himself grinning in response before he could help it.

“Behave,” was all he could manage, and Dean only grinned wider.

“Yes, Sir.” He winked before walking further into the library and pulling his boxers back on. He climbed the ladder that Sam had occupied previously.

“So what are we doing with the ones you’re taking down?”

“Cataloguing,” Sam said, leaning on the ladder and snagging the books as Dean passed them down.

“You know,“ Dean began, “you’re my kind of librarian right now. Naked and nerdy.”

Sam’s lips thinned as he struggled not to smile. He lost the battle, breaking into a deep dimpled grin.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” Dean climbed down the ladder, passing the final few books from the upper shelf to Sam.

“Just saying that ‘cause you want sex.”

“Don’t mean it’s not true. So, cataloguing, huh?”

Sam nodded, setting the books on the table. He snagged a box of index cards and sat down, passing some over to Dean.

“Yes. We write. Like this.” He set an already finished one in between them.

“By hand?” Dean asked incredulously, taking a seat next to him.

“Yep.” Sam passed over a pen, opening the first book and beginning to write.

Dean had almost fallen into a lull – writing down the information, sliding the book to the center, new card, new book, repeat. That was when he heard it. A gentle thump on the table, barely audible even in their silent library.

Looking in Sam’s direction, Dean’s eyes widened. Sam was still staring at the book he was working on, writing carefully on the index card. His left hand was under the table, and Dean could see the steady flex of his biceps. He scooted back.

“Sam Winchester.”

Sam looked over, feigning innocence. “What’s up?”

“That’s cheating.”

Sam grinned, letting go of himself and setting his hand in Dean’s lap. He wormed his way in through the hole in his boxers, grabbing Dean’s quickly hardening cock and beginning to stroke it slowly.

“Keep working.”

A simple command. That’s all it was. Dean didn’t have to listen. He could have pushed away from the table, grabbed Sam and kissed him until they were both drunk on each other, needy for more. But he didn’t. Instead he pulled his chair closer and lowered his head, struggling to keep his handwriting steady as Sam’s hand slid over his cock with lazy, firm strokes.

Over and over – it would have been soothing if it wasn’t so damn  _ infuriating _ . Dean struggled to keep his breathing steady, to remain calm. He couldn’t come and he knew it. Sam was going to tease him until he begged – unless he made Sam beg first. Dean opened his mouth to say something, anything that would turn the tables, when the buzzer for their washer sounded.

Instantly, like he’d been waiting for exactly that sound, Sam pulled his hand away. “Go put my clothes in the dryer.”

Dean’s cock jerked, searching for Sam’s hand. “Wh-what?”

“Go put my clothes in the dryer,” Sam repeated. “You’re the one who started laundry.”   
Dean held back a sigh and peered at Sam. “You’re coming with me.”

The tone of his voice was a challenge, an invitation to keep this game going. 

And Sam accepted. 

It didn’t take long to get the clothes switched into the dryer, Dean grabbing handfuls of wet clothes and tossing them in, Sam watching and rescuing one dress shirt that needed to hang dry. They didn’t speak, just moved in the rhythm of their lifelong dance, Sam holding out the dryer sheet the second Dean leaned up to look for it, Dean pressing a kiss to Sam’s shoulder when he leaned across to choose the settings. 

“We’ll go to the grocery when those are dry and I can get dressed again,” Sam smirked.

“Don’t want you to get dressed,” Dean said, shifting so that Sam was pressed back against the dryer, their hips sliding together. 

“Well, I could go naked, but you know how you get when people stare at me.”

It was a joke, but something hot and possessive still flared inside Dean, worked its way to his fingers as they latched on to Sam’s neck, pulling him in for a greedy kiss. He bit and sucked at Sam’s lips, tugged at his hair, did all the little things with his tongue that made Sam sag against him. 

When Sam reached for his boxers this time, he didn’t stop him. They pooled around his ankles, forgotten as their cocks rubbed together, hot skin on skin, hard and aching. 

Sam sighed and spread his legs, ass sliding down and bracing his long body against the dryer. Dean pushed in closer, an inch or two taller in this position, just tall enough for Dean to feel the way he used to, when Sam stared at him with just as much hero worship as he did lust. 

“Come here, baby boy,” Dean murmured, pushing the hair out of Sam’s eyes before drinking in another kiss. 

The dryer didn’t shake as much as the washer would have, but it was enough. Sam groaned when Dean rutted against him, pushed him into the warm machine and dragged their dicks together. The vibrations moved through both of them, just pushing everything up a little, making everything a little  _ more _ . 

Sam slid his hands up Dean’s chest, traced the tattoo there without opening his eyes, felt all over Dean’s torso like he was still pleasantly surprised by it. Dean reached down and wrapped a hand around both of them, controlling the thrusts, making sure Sam felt every possible bit of friction.

“Dean…” Sam moaned, helplessly trapped between the dryer and Dean. 

“Shhh. Let me. Just don’t come.”

“ _ Dean _ ,” he groaned, more forcefully. “Come on. Back to the library.”

Dean moaned brokenly. He stepped back, his nostrils flaring. His hands fisted at his sides, rolling his eyes up to look at Sam. The normally bright greens were hidden by the black of his pupils, blown wide with his need. His lips, swollen and pink, parted to let Dean’s tongue slide over them. A drop of sweat trickled from Dean’s ear, down the curve of his throat and over his heaving chest, the dryer making the air muggier than was comfortable.

Sam looked him up and down, his stomach clenching dangerously. He could have almost come right there, untouched and all over himself like a teenager again at the sight of Dean. He stepped forward, catching the drop of sweat just before it was lost in Dean’s belly button, following the trail back up with his tongue. Dean whimpered.

“What happened to the library?” he asked. Sam smirked against his salty skin; the shake was audible in his voice.

“Just looked good enough to eat,” he whispered, pressing close to Dean once more. Their cocks bumped, drawing a hiss from both of them.

“You keep teasing and I’m gonna lose what little self-control I got, Sam,” Dean warned.

Sam smirked. “Getting weak in your old age?” he teased.

Dean’s eyes widened and Sam dodged at the last second, sidestepping and spinning just out of Dean’s reach. His fingers grazed Sam’s bare ass.

“And slow too! Damn, Dean,” Sam teased. He took off toward the library before Dean could strike again, hearing Dean’s bare feet smacking the concrete as he chased after him.

Sam circled the table they’d been working at in the library, Dean on the other side.

“Come on, Sam. Are you five again?”

Sam grinned. “Nah, just fun to make you chase me, old man.”

Dean darted to his left at the same time Sam went to his right, keeping them equidistant.

“You realize if you fall it’s gonna really hurt.”

Sam glanced down at his nude form. He shrugged. “You’ll kiss it better.”

“Oh sure, after I laugh my ass off and take photos.” Dean teased.

“Truce?” Sam asked, ignoring Dean’s banter. “We  _ do _ need to get this cataloguing finished at some point.”

“Truce. For now. And keep your hands off my dick.”

Sam circled around the table, folding his too-long body into the chair he’d previously vacated. “Where’s the fun in that?”

But Sam behaved himself, settled into a chair far enough away from Dean’s that they were able to get a few minutes of real work in before the dryer buzzed, signaling that Sam once again had clean clothes. 

“Come on,” Sam said, standing up instantly, eyes flashing like he was an excited puppy, one who knew he was about to be taken outside to play. “Get dressed. Let’s go to the grocery.”

Dean smiled in spite of himself. “Why are you so excited about that?”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

The simple sweetness of that statement was enough to shut Dean up. He just leaned back in his chair and turned his face up when Sam bent down, accepting the kiss, grabbing Sam’s face and holding on until Sam pried him away. 

“Clothes. Now.”

Ten minutes later, they were fully clothed in the Impala, Sam scratching out a list as Dean rattled off things they needed. “We need milk. And beer. Oooh, and put the ingredients for my spaghetti sauce on there.”

Sam nodded. “You want mushrooms this time?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. I think that’s everything, then,” he said, looking at the long list one final time. 

“Oh,” Dean grinned. “We need lube. Maybe some of that stuff that heats up or tingles.”

Sam laughed. “Didn’t we get some of that like a year ago? And you hated it. Said your dick wasn’t meant to tingle, that doctors had creams to stop that very thing.”

Dean bit his lip, trying to remember. “Huh. Well, that’s fair enough. Just the normal kind, then.”

They parked the car and grabbed a shopping cart someone had left in the lot.

“You wanna split up?” Sam asked. “It would go faster that way.”

Dean shook his head and slowed down enough to rub his hand across Sam’s ass. “Like you said earlier, where’s the fun in that?”

Sam’s eyebrows pulled together, mouth drooping into that _ I don’t understand _ frown as he held open the glass door. The cool air of the store rushed at them, smelling like floor cleaner and fresh vegetables as they started down the first aisle. 

“I know we can’t do anything here,” Dean told him. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it.”

Sam didn’t acknowledge Dean’s words, but his next breath was a little deeper. 

“Oh, come on,” Dean said, stopping the cart in front of the peanut butter. When he reached across Sam to grab a jar, he let his lips brush against Sam’s ear. “Don’t you want to talk about all the things we’re gonna do when we get home?”

Sam’s breath stuttered as he struggled to swallow against the lump that he founded lodged in his throat.

“Dean—“

“What?” Dean smirked when he dropped the jar in the cart.

“Gonna make you pay for taking my clothes this morning,” he threatened. He began to walk down the aisle, glancing down at their list.

“How?” Dean asked, following close behind. Sam stopped a few feet down, grabbing a bottle of syrup and a couple of other items they needed.

“Aw, don’t be a tease,” Dean said softly when Sam still didn’t answer. He stepped up behind him and placed his hands on Sam’s hips, letting his thumbs push under his shirt just enough to graze Sam’s heated skin.

He turned around, almost chest to chest with Dean. “You’re not gonna be in control tonight.”

“You know I’m never in control around you, baby boy,” Dean whispered.

Sam leaned forward as he dropped the food. “I’m going to rip your clothes off the minute we get the food put away. And then I’m going to ride you until you’re  _ begging _ me to let you come.”

It was Dean’s turn to forget how to breathe. Sam pulled back, a smug smile on his face at Dean’s blown-black pupils, lips parted. He could hear Dean pulling in quick breaths, losing the fight of remaining calm.

Despite the urge to slam him against the nearest wall and kiss those lips until Dean screamed for air, Sam grabbed the handle of the shopping cart, pushing it further down the aisle and turning the corner. As he did, Dean’s hands landed over his own, stopping the cart.

Dean nuzzled his neck. “You talk like you’re threatening me, Sammy, but you know that I’m gonna love every second of it if you do that. Personally—I’d rather see you spread out on the table in your precious little library. Make you wreck all those cards we worked so  _ hard _ on today.”

Dean ground his hips against Sam’s ass, the hard line of his cock making itself known even through both layers of denim.

Sam’s hands tightened on the cart. Even in their decades of life together, Sam had yet to figure out how Dean could make the simplest things sound so dirty.

“We need to finish shopping,” he whispered, pushing past Dean’s grip. As he did, he reached down, readjusting his pressing erection. He’d never been so damn glad the store was mostly deserted.

Dean managed to behave himself down three aisles. He walked too close, and his touches were lingering and filled with promise that had Sam aching in all the right ways, but he was behaved. 

“We need something sweet,” he commented, eyeing some chocolate sauces nearby while Sam grabbed canned vegetables.

Sam nodded, and Dean headed to the end of the aisle, grabbing the largest chocolate sauce the store offered. Neither of them mentioned they had no desserts back at the bunker to use it on. Dean just winked at Sam and followed him into the next aisle. 

It probably only took another ten minutes to get everything they needed, including more laundry detergent, but it felt like much longer. The minutes stretched on as Dean watched the way Sam walked, hips moving a little more than usual. They were reacting to the friction in his jeans, trying to ease the pressure of Sam’s erection, as alluring to Dean as if Sam was still talking. 

Finally, just as Dean was fully considering finding the bathroom and relieving his own tension, they made it to the checkout counter. The young woman scanned their items, smiling a little when Dean rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder, impatiently watching. 

When it was all finished and they were back in the car, Sam slid over to the middle, sucking at Dean’s earlobe before they even got all the way out of the parking lot. 

“When was the last time we had a whole day like this?” he murmured. 

Dean turned onto the main road, then ran a hand up Sam’s thigh. “I don’t even remember. Just wanna go home and get in bed with you, Sammy. Spend the rest of the day there.”

Sam pulled away. “No.”

“ _ No? _ ”

“No. I won’t make you work on the library anymore, because I know you don’t give a shit about how the books are organized. But there’s still plenty of stuff that needs to be done.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the map room needs to be dusted, and there’s that broken cabinet in the kitchen.”

“Or we could actually take the fuckin’ day off,” Dean pleaded, running his hand higher until he found the bulge between Sam’s legs. 

Sam gave in. “We could. Watch a movie or something? Because like I said, I wanna spend the whole day teasing you. No sex yet.”

Dean sighed heavily. A movie wasn’t what he wanted. But it was better than chores. “Alright, fine. But I get to pick what we watch.”

“Deal.” Sam leaned back in and ran his nose against Dean’s cheek, nuzzled down into his neck. “And I get to eat your ass while you watch it.”

“Fuck,” Dean huffed, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he got so lucky. 

Sam's grin was brighter than any summer sun. Dean started up the car, letting Sam nuzzle against his neck and side as he drove them back to the bunker.

Much to Dean's surprise, Sam kept his hands mostly to himself as they put away their groceries, save for a couple of brushes over his ass and a perfectly timed squeeze to his crotch. He knew Sam was still aching, he was definitely still aching. But the game was just too fun to give up.

"So what movie do you want to watch?" Sam asked when they'd finished putting away the groceries. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam's waist, pressing up against his back.

"Are you  _ sure _ we have to watch a movie? I mean, we could just make out on the couch until we're too horny to keep teasing," Dean suggested. He kissed along the curve of his neck, letting his hands slide down. He pushed up Sam's shirt, grazing the toned muscle of his stomach.

"But the teasing is so much more fun," Sam whispered, twisting out of Dean's grip. He smiled widely. "Go pick a movie. I'll get us some beers."

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed, heading out the kitchen door.

"Oh, hey, Dean?" Sam called, opening the fridge.

"What?"

"Make sure you're naked when I get in there." He winked at Dean over the fridge door before disappearing into it. Dean could hear the clink of glass even as he hurried down the hallway to their bedroom.

Sam was whistling as he approached the bedroom. Dean could hear him almost all the way from the kitchen, despite the distance between the two. He was stretched out on their bed, naked as the day he was born, just liked he'd been told. When Sam's body filled the doorway, Dean grinned, his hand slipping over his cock in lazy strokes.

"Took you long enough."

"I didn't say you could jerk off," Sam said after a moment, entering the room completely and crawling onto the bed.

"You didn't say I couldn't either. That's the thing about being in control, baby boy. Gotta make sure you make yourself clear, or your subordinates will walk all over you."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. He settled onto the bed and put his beer on the bedside stand. Instead of handing Dean his own, he set it next to Dean's bare cock.

"That's fucking cold!" Dean cried, flopping on the bed to get the offending bottle off his lap. Sam laughed, narrowly missing the fist flying toward his chest.

"What was that for?"

"The thing about being in control, big brother, is knowing when it's appropriate to punish your subordinates for thinking they can get away with shit."

Dean tried to glare at Sam when he held the beer out to him peacefully this time, perfectly innocent look on his face, but it was no use. There was no being upset. Not with Sam. Not on a day like today.

“I should spank your ass red for that,” he smirked. 

Sam flushed a tiny bit, but his voice was steady when he answered. “Maybe tomorrow, when you get to be the one in control. What movie did you pick?”

Dean grinned. “Lord of the Rings.”

If Sam was annoyed about watching that movie for at least the fifteenth time, he said nothing, just nodded and pushed at Dean’s shoulders. “Lie down. On your stomach.”

Dean didn’t tease or argue or push his boundaries this time. He just stretched out, head at the foot of the bed so he could see the television, and pushed play. 

Sam’s promise to ‘eat his ass’ rang in Dean’s ears, making him tense and anxious. He let it settle and simmer in his gut, focused on the movie while his cock throbbed, gentle and insistent and so fucking hot Dean didn’t even mind the teasing and the waiting. Maybe Sam really was a genius. 

The first touch was light, starting at his ankle. Sam stroked up his calf, massaging a little, then switched to the other leg. Dean sighed a little, muscles easing under Sam’s expert fingers. The movie played on and Sam took his time, working his thumbs into the arches of Dean’s feet, sliding his hands up and down Dean’s legs, digging into his thighs. He worked the tension out of Dean’s lower body so thoroughly that Dean’s eyes started to droop. The movie turned to white noise as the whole world narrowed down to Sam’s warm hands, the soft blankets, and the total relaxation pulling Dean under. 

Dean was so close to sleep that it almost didn’t register when Sam stopped using his hands and started using his mouth. It took until Sam made his way up to the back of Dean’s knee, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh there, before Dean gave a lazy moan, toes curling a little. 

He felt Sam grin when he spread his legs a little. “You want something, Dean?”

“Want you to keep your promises,” Dean mumbled into the bed. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam said, hands reaching up to squeeze Dean’s ass. He pulled his cheeks apart and puffed air against Dean’s rim, earning a grunt. Sam slid his tongue out, licking from the thin seam at the back of Dean’s already drawn tight balls up to his fluttering, furled hole. Once there, he swirled the point of his tongue around before sliding it back down, squeezing his ass as he did so.

Dean arched his back, a weak attempt to get more stimulation to any part of his body that needed it, but Sam only laughed, pulling back.

“Watch your movie, Dean,” he said before biting down on the meat of Dean’s ass.

“Fucking tease,” Dean spat, each word hissed through gritted teeth.

“Would you rather me ignore you? I mean, I could go finish up the library or dust or—“

“Put your tongue back on me, Sam, please,” Dean cut him off. Sam smirked. It had taken him years to learn it, but now he knew—that little twinge in Dean’s voice. A tiny crack, almost imperceptible – that was Dean’s desperation. That was him  _ breaking _ .

Sam began to lavish attention on Dean’s hole, flicking his tongue over it and stiffening it to a point, just pushing past the tight rim. Dean’s hips bucked helplessly, small groans of approval whispered into the mattress.

Sam worked his tongue around Dean’s hole until Dean was completely relaxed under him. He let his teeth graze along his rim and up, over his ass before sliding back down and driving as deep as he could reach. A constant stream of moans and sighs slipped from Dean’s mouth, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was even trying to watch the movie anymore.

When he pulled back, Dean made a quiet noise of protest.

“Don’t stop.”

“How close are you?” Sam asked, circling his thumb over Dean’s entrance. When Dean didn’t answer right away, he chuckled. “Close, huh?

“Please, Sam—“ Dean whispered, looking back at him. “Your mouth feels so damn good.”

“Are you  _ begging _ me, Dean? Gotta admit – I like the way it sounds.”

Dean huffed, burying his face in his arms and arching his back again, pushing his ass toward Sam’s face.

“I can’t believe you’re close just from me eating you out. Kinda kinky, Dean,” Sam continued to tease.

“You’ve been fucking me for years, this isn’t new. Come on, baby boy. I’ll make it worth it,” Dean offered, looking back at him again.

“I’m sure you would.” Sam’s voice was lower now, as needy as Dean’s. “But I’m not gonna keep going if it’s gonna make you come. All part of the fun of today, right?”

Dean sighed heavily, but he stopped begging. This was what they had agreed upon, after all, and he had to admit that Sam was right. It  _ was  _ fun. His whole body felt extra-sensitive as Sam stretched out next to him, shifted their bodies so that they were spooned up together facing the television, Sam pressed against Dean’s back as he slung an arm around him. Just that simple contact made his skin sing and his cock jump, and Dean fucking loved it. 

They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes, Sam’s even breaths washing over Dean’s neck, their fingers laced together on Dean’s stomach. 

And then Dean decided it was Sam’s turn to be teased. 

Sam didn’t stop him when he rolled over, pressing a kiss just beneath Sam’s jaw. It really wasn’t fair, this teasing, because the two of them knew each other too well. Dean knew that Sam would close his eyes and sigh at the feel of Dean sucking at his pulse, he knew that Sam wouldn’t push him away if he dragged his fingers down his ribs so lightly it tickled, that those were the things Sam liked. 

And sure enough, he managed to get Sam loose and pliant underneath his hands as they ghosted down his sides. Dean felt the goosebumps on Sam’s skin and grinned a little, moving to bite at Sam’s collarbone as his hips pushed forward. 

They both let out a harsh breath when their cocks bumped and rubbed against each other, but that wasn’t Dean’s goal. He ran his hand down over Sam’s thigh, sleek and strong, and pulled up. Sam lifted his leg until his knee was almost in Dean’s armpit, ready to be teased. Dean grinned and held two fingers to Sam’s mouth. 

“Suck.”

God, Sam was dangerously sexy. His eyes were hooded, cheeks flushed, lips the most sinful shade of pink Dean had ever seen. Greedily, without hesitation, Sam wrapped those lips around Dean’s fingers and sucked them like he could make Dean come from it, tongue darting down to get between and tease at the sensitive flesh there.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean groaned, pushing their hips together again. 

Sam didn’t pull away until Dean’s fingers were a dripping mess, until his lips were swollen and he was breathing hard with anticipation. 

Dean kissed him hard as he brought his wet fingers down to Sam’s ass. Sam parted his lips, allowing Dean’s tongue to push into his mouth just as his spit-slick finger pushed into his ass. Decades of flirting and teasing and fucking - and the novelty of Sam’s moans still hadn’t worn off. Dean could spend hours with fingers buried in Sam, rubbing and touching, pinching and kneading, pulling all sorts of sounds from his little brother’s lips. Each one sent little twists of fire through Dean’s stomach, making his cock throb persistently.

Dean mouthed along Sam’s throat again, nibbling his earlobe as he tugged at his rim, loosening his hole enough to slip in a second finger and earn another of those beautiful little whimpers.

“Dean—“

“I’ll take care of you, baby boy – Don’t worry,” Dean promised, pressing another kiss to Sam’s swollen, parted lips. He twisted his wrist, brushing the pads of his fingers over Sam’s prostate. With almost a delicate touch, he began to stroke over the little nub. Sam writhed at the touch, his fingers biting into Dean’s arms. He knew he’d have bruises the next day if Sam kept going, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he could watch his brother fall apart like this.

Sam’s cock dribbled freely, leaving slick streaks against his heaving stomach whenever he moved. Dean shifted, pushing Sam’s leg over his shoulder and sliding down the bed. He continued to thrust his fingers, stretching Sam open slow and lazy. Pausing at Sam’s side, Dean nipped the curves of his muscles before sliding lower, letting his teeth graze the sharp jut of Sam’s hipbone.

“Dean, don’t—“ Sam panted when Dean let his breath ghost over Sam’s cock.

“Don’t want?” Dean asked. He twisted his wrist, pressing hard against Sam’s prostate. Another dribble of precome joined the growing puddle on Sam’s stomach.

“I might not last if you—“

“I’ve got faith in you, Sammy,” Dean said simply. He remained still though, his lips hovering inches above Sam’s cock. Thick and veined, his silken tip was nearly purple with need, balls drawn tight against his body as Dean continued to rub his prostate. He could almost see the throb of Sam’s pulse in the base of his cock between the little twitches it gave in response to his breath.

“You know how damn gorgeous you are?” Dean asked, looking up the length of Sam’s tanned body.

Sam was staring down at him, his eyes heavy.

“Getting sentimental, old man?” He teased.

“Is now really the time to make jokes?” Dean asked. He pulled his fingers out to the very first joint and spread them, taking advantage of Sam’s relaxed hole to slip a third in and drive them deep. 

“ _ Fuck _ .” It almost sounded like an apology on Sam’s lips, back arching off the bed before dropping back down with a huff. 

Dean kept going. He wanted to see how much Sam could take, how far he could push his boy, writhing so beautifully beneath him. His fingers searched and reached, hitting all of the sensitive spots he knew as well as his own, using exactly the speed that always made Sam come all over himself whether anyone was touching his dick or not. 

But eventually, Sam just relaxed. Dean could practically see his brain deciding ‘ _ not yet, can’t come yet _ ’, and that was that. He stopped struggling, stopped snorting breath through his nose and clawing at the sheets, and just _ took _ Dean’s fingers. He moaned and sighed, closed his eyes and let his hips feel their way into Dean’s rhythm, sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat. 

Fucking perfect. 

Dean leaned down and ran his tongue from Sam’s chest up to his chin, tasting the salt there, tasting the echo of himself there from all the hundreds of times he’d done this very thing before. Sam whimpered a little, a wordless plea that made Dean tip his head up and kiss him full on the lips, sucking at his tongue, leaving no part of his mouth unexplored. 

Dean moved his fingers faster, thrust deeper inside of Sam. He seriously considered just fucking him already. But even Sam had his limits. “Stop,” he whispered, quiet but clear.

Dean nodded and gently pulled his fingers away, rolled to the side and splayed his hands over Sam’s stomach.

“I don’t want to come yet,” Sam said, as much to himself as to Dean. 

“We could always go back to the library,” Dean smirked.

Sam shook his head, sweaty hair tickling Dean’s chin as he tucked up under it, curled into Dean’s chest like he wasn’t a giant. He mumbled into Dean’s skin. “No. Wanna stay right here with you.”

Dean threw a leg over him and drew him closer, until their cocks were rubbing together again, almost painful now with their need. “You wanna take a nap? Or eat something? I could eat.”

When Sam pulled his head back to look up at Dean, there was a spark of something in his eyes. Mischief? Another plan to torment Dean? “Let’s go make some dinner,” he said. “But no getting dressed.”

“You’re wearing the apron this time,” Dean argued. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Turn off the tv,” he said, instead of responding to Dean’s quip. He rose from the bed, stretching. His back popped audibly, a quiet reminder that neither Winchester was as young as he used to be. But, as Dean often joked: they were young at heart and growing old together. And those were the only two things that mattered in the long run.

Dean rose with Sam, following him out into the kitchen. He admired the way Sam’s ass flexed with each step, the muscles bulging from his thighs and calves. He may joke about Sam being the weak one, but he could snap Dean in two if he wanted… And right now, Dean  _ really _ kinda wanted. He closed the gap between them just as they entered the kitchen, grinding the hard line of his cock against Sam’s ass.

“When’s the last time we fucked in the kitchen, Sammy? Really just let go and got down and dirty right on the floor, huh? I don’t think we’ve ever done it over the table—do you know how  _ pretty  _ you’d look spread out over our table?”

He sounded desperate. He fucking  _ was _ desperate. His hands splayed over Sam’s heaving chest, sliding down to pluck at his nipples before moving lower. Dean’s fingers bit in just above the cut of Sam’s hips, smirking against his shoulder at the gasp it earned.

One twist of his waist and Dean’s cock was nestled between the plump globes of Sam’s ass, grinding and humping. Dean let one hand stray lower, grabbing the tense, quivering muscle of Sam’s inner thigh before pulling, forcing Sam’s legs apart. He cupped his balls for a second, rolling and squeezing them.

“You’re so close, baby boy—Doesn’t it  _ ache _ ?” He whispered. He knew full well it did – his balls were just as tight, and probably just as painful.

Letting Sam’s balls go, his hand drifted lower. He pressed two fingers against Sam’s perineum, rubbing just hard enough to draw a desperate whimper out of Sam.

Sam cleared his throat, sliding his palm over Dean’s hip and up his side. “You know, teasing me has its disadvantages, Dean.”

“Like what? You lose control and beg me to fuck you on the floor?”

Sam stepped forward suddenly, and Dean nearly face planted. He was only held up by Sam’s hands on his forearms.

“Like if you get me too horny, I’ll come first – and I won’t let you finish. See, I know you, Dean… You love playing it tough, but as soon as I put on the puppy eyes and  _ beg _ you to hold off, don’t come until I’m ready again—You’ll do everything in your power to not come. Cause you’d do anything for me.”

Sam pressed close to Dean as he spoke, their cocks bumping together between their bodies. He pressed a hard kiss to Dean’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Dean murmured, not even trying to hide how fucking lost he was on Sam. “I’d do anything.”

They kissed again, every inch of their bodies involved this time, pressing together, sliding and grinding, arms wrapping around each other like if they just held on tight enough they’d actually become one person. 

“Food, Dean,” Sam finally said. “Let me fix you dinner.”

Dean leaned his forehead against Sam’s, breathing hard as his heart slammed in his chest. “Only if you wear the apron, like I said.”

Sam smiled. “Deal.”

Dean was mostly kidding about the apron. He just thought it would be funny. But when Sam tied it around his waist, there was another rush of blood to Dean’s cock, keeping him achingly hard. There was just something so... _ domestic _ about it. The apron hugged tight around Sam’s hips, the bow of the strings sitting right on the swell of Sam’s ass, presenting it like a gift. Sam hadn’t even managed to pull what he wanted out of the refrigerator before Dean was behind him, squeezing and smacking at his cheeks. 

Sam shook his head and just brushed him off, getting everything he needed and spreading it out on the counter.

“Hamburgers?” Dean asked happily.

“ _ Cheese _ burgers,” Sam corrected. “I wanted to make something for you.”

Dean launched himself at Sam again, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Sam’s neck. “Marry me, Sammy.”

Sam laughed, letting Dean hold him as long as he wanted this time. “What, being brothers and soulmates isn’t enough for you? You think we need a piece of paper to keep us together?”

Dean smacked a wet kiss under Sam’s ear. “No, I just think you’re the best fucking husband on the planet.”

“I should cook food you like more often. I could probably get just about anything I wanted, couldn’t I?”

“Probably,” Dean admitted, stepping back and gesturing for Sam to get back to the food. “But we already know I’d do anything for you.”

“I like when you’re sweet,” Sam smiled, both of them blushing just a little.

Dean watched Sam at the counter for a few minutes, molding the meat into patties, salting and peppering them, adding some spice Dean didn’t recognize, his naked back just begging to be kissed and touched. 

That’s when Dean remembered the chocolate sauce. 

Sam didn’t turn around to see what he was doing when he grabbed it out of the refrigerator. Dean opened the bottle and squeezed a little onto the tip of his finger. It was cool and sticky, decadently sweet on his tongue when he sucked it off. 

Perfect.

Slowly, taking the time to enjoy the view, he positioned himself behind Sam and drizzled a little of the chocolate over Sam’s shoulder blade. 

Sam jumped, his fingers mashing into the patty he was flattening.

Dean’s mouth covered the cold chocolate as quick as he could, licking a hot streak over Sam’s shoulder to combat the chill of the chocolate sauce.

“Dean--”

“Sweet and salty, my favorite,” Dean mumbled. He let the sauce bottle tip again, this time letting it run down the dip of Sam’s spine. It moved lazily at first, curving with the bumps as Sam moved, fixing the patty he’d smashed. It picked up speed as Sam’s body heat warmed it. Dean sank low, catching the glob on the tip of his tongue. He traced Sam’s spine all the way up, making sure to clear off every bit of chocolate he could find. When Dean looked over Sam’s shoulder, Sam had a large knife in his hand, knuckles white as he gripped it. He was holding an onion in his other hand.

“Gonna murder the vegetable, or me, Sammy?” Dean teased, puffing breath against Sam’s ear.

“Not sure yet,” Sam teased. Using his height to his advantage, he tossed the patties into the hot pan, the sizzle of meat filling the air. “Gonna let me cook, Dean?”

“Why? Got a perfectly good dinner, here. And I’m gonna eat it all,” Dean teased. He poured another glob of chocolate sauce on Sam’s shoulder, letting it run down the side of his arm before licking it up. Sam sighed patiently.

“You’re gonna ruin your dinner is what you’re gonna do.”

Dean snorted, cocking one eyebrow. “Do you know me?”

“Good point. Still. If you wanna keep your dick in one piece… Stay away from my knife hand.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dean whispered.

He leaned against the counter, setting the chocolate sauce on it as he watched Sam slice up the onions and toss them in the pan to fry as well. They were hunters. Working with guns, knives, machetes – it was all a part of the job. But there was something different about it today. Maybe it was Sam’s muscles, twitching each time he brought the blade down, the satisfying thunk of metal against wood. Maybe it was Sam’s determined jaw, his lips drawn into a thin line as he focused on cutting the onion and not the tips of his fingers, so close to the sharp silver edge. Or maybe it was just  _ Sam.  _ His Sam, making dinner for them, so focused on something so  _ normal _ .

Dean’s gaze wandered up to Sam’s face. Not for the first time, Dean noticed the grey hairs, sprinkled heavily at Sam’s temples and splashing outward. He’d seen it in his own reflection. Sam was starting to get crow’s feet too, matching the ones Dean had been sporting a few years already. Hunting took a toll on the body, and it was starting to catch up to them.

Despite it, he was still beautiful. Dean could remember Sam at all the important ages – the day he was born, the day he was placed in Dean’s arms at six months old, his first steps, first words, first day of school. Self-feeding, potty training, learning to read – Dean had been there for it all. 

And Sam had never been anything other than beautiful. 

“You’re staring,” Sam finally said.

“Yeah, I am.”

Sam grinned a little, cheeks turning just a little pink, and finished cooking in silence. Dean stared the entire time, watching Sam’s capable hands as they created a full meal, cheeseburgers with all the right toppings, potato chips tossed next to them as an easy side. 

“There.” He presented the plates of food with a proud flourish, setting them side by side on the counter and waiting for Dean’s approval. 

With a perfect tightness in his chest, heart a little too big to fit at the moment, Dean pulled Sam’s apron away and wrapped him in a hug, skin to skin, lips slotting together in the dance they’d been doing forever. Sam sighed into it, a soft and happy sound Dean could never get over, no matter how many times he’d heard it. 

“It’s gonna get cold,” Sam murmured eventually. 

Somehow, Dean managed to pull away and sit down, biting into the burger like he hadn’t eaten in months.

“Mmmmm,” he groaned, an almost pornographic sound. 

“Good?”

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, groaning again. 

Sam ducked his chin and smiled. “Good.”

They ate in an easy silence, knees bumping together, Sam rolling his eyes at Dean’s loud chewing and continued sex noises. And they actually made it to the last couple of bites before Sam decided it was time to get back to the delicious torture they’d been putting each other through all day. 

Dean had just eaten a couple of chips and was reaching for the last chunk of his burger when Sam leaned forward, catching Dean’s greasy fingers in his own mouth. He sucked hard, tongue twirling around Dean’s fingers and settling between them.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean breathed. “Those fuckin’ lips.”

“What about them?” Sam mumbled, not taking his mouth from Dean’s fingers. 

“Want ‘em all over me,” Dean said, his free hand moving to stroke his swelling cock. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, standing up and holding out his hand. “We’ve gone almost the whole day. I need you to fuck me. And I’ll put my mouth all over you while you do it.”

Dean didn’t have to be told twice.

Leaving the plates on the counter and the mess by the stove, Dean laced his fingers through Sam’s and let himself be pulled toward their bedroom.

As soon as they entered, Dean spun Sam around, giving him a firm shove toward the bed. Sam squawked, bouncing on the mattress when he landed on it. Dean was over him in a second, his teeth scraping lightly over Sam’s throat.

“So hard for you it hurts, baby boy,” Dean growled against his skin, grinding their cocks together for emphasis. Sam hissed. He grabbed Dean’s ass with one hand, the other twisting in Dean’s short hair and yanking back.

Their mouths met in a rough, messy kiss, more teeth and tongue than lips – but neither minded. Dean wasn’t sure he and Sam had ever gone this long teasing each other, and he knew he wasn’t going to last. From the high, breathy moans slipping from Sam’s throat, he wasn’t going to fare much better.

"Thought it was supposed to be my mouth all over you?" Sam panted.

"Gettin' there." Dean stood, allowing Sam to shimmy fully onto the bed while he grabbed the lube. 

When he turned back he couldn't help but grin. Sam's legs were splayed open, his cock brushing against his stomach as he grazed his fingers over the deep red tip.

"You're gonna come quicker than you did as a teenager," Dean teased. Sam grinned, looking over at him.

"So are you. I'm gonna be pissed if you can't even get inside me though."

Dean rolled his eyes, crawling back onto the bed and settling between Sam's legs. 

"That was  _ one _ time. And, more important, I was mid-twenties, we hadn't had sex since before you left for Stanford, and you had just spent the last forty minutes sucking my cock so, oh shit--" 

Sam cut Dean off by scrambling up and grabbing his cock. He swallowed it down easily, his shoulders bobbing with a gentle gag.

"Just like that--" Dean gasped, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair.

Sam pulled back with an obscene pop, looking up at Dean. "You did say you wanted my mouth on you."

"Yes I did. But you said you needed me to fuck you. What kinda big brother would I be if I didn't give my Sammy what he wanted?"

Sam's Adam's apple bobbed wildly. He let Dean push him back without argument, his legs falling open once more. Dean crawled forward, his fingers slipping over Sam’s cock and down to his hole. Just as two fingers slipped into Sam, still slightly slick from the earlier stretching, Sam dragged his head down into a rough kiss.

“Come on,” Sam whined into Dean’s mouth. “I’m ready. Been ready all day.”

Dean nodded. He’d been ready all day, too.

There were times when Dean had fucked Sam sweet and gentle, times when he’d fucked Sam hard and fast, times when he had fucked Sam playful and acrobatic. But tonight, he just wanted to fuck Sam slow. They’d waited this long, had drawn it out until it fucking hurt, and he didn’t want the payoff to be over any time soon. 

Sam stared up at him, blinked slowly like a trusting kitten, like his baby boy, patiently waiting, knowing that Dean was going to take care of him, would always take care of him. Dean’s heart slammed in his chest as he positioned himself, digging their hips together as Sam slipped his long arms and legs around him, pulling him close. 

The head of his cock pushed into Sam, slow but insistent, driving into that tight heat as he had for years. They were older now, less flexible, bigger, tired more easily. But it still felt the same inside. Dean looked down at Sam, counted the colors in his eyes, leaned down to kiss the dimple next to his smile, and felt all the emotions he’d felt his whole life. His chest hurt with it, his cock throbbed with it, his fingers itched with it as they slid into Sam’s hair. Dean sank into his little brother, buried himself completely, and let himself get lost until there was nothing but Sam.

And the thing that got him most of all, the thing that shook something so deep inside of him he was certain there had been earthquakes with less force, was the look on Sam’s face that mirrored it all. Sam was feeling all of the same things, was just as lost, just as drunk on Dean.

“Sammy,” he murmured, the only name he ever said during sex.

Sam leaned up and kissed him, swallowed the word down and shifted his hips a little, reminding Dean that he should be moving. 

“Just.” Dean reached down, pulled out just enough to squeeze the base of his own dick, ignoring Sam’s as it curved up to his stomach, twitching every couple of seconds and dripping precome all over Sam’s skin. “Gimme a second.”

“Gave you all day, Dean,” Sam teased, but didn’t press further. He was just as on edge, Dean could see it in the grit of his teeth, feel it in the quivering of his arms as they rested on the back of Dean’s neck.

When Dean was sure this wasn’t going to be over as soon as it began, he let go of his cock, bracing his hands on either side of Sam’s head.

Sam still wore that soft smile, that adoring look that Dean had seen for decades, slowly morphing from pure hero worship into this – whatever they had. It was more than a relationship, more than a bond – there was something so tangled in their souls that Dean knew he’d never be complete without his Sammy next to him.

“Move,” Sam whispered. He tightened his thighs, pulling Dean closer to him.

“Bossy,” Dean grumbled. He ground his hips down, smirking at the whimper it pulled from Sam’s lips. Teasing was no longer an option. Lips finding Sam’s, he began to move, deep and slow thrusts that let him feel every inch of Sam’s warmth.

Sam writhed under Dean, their sweat slicked stomachs sliding together, squeezing his cock with just the right amount of pressure. His short nails bit into Dean’s shoulders, quiet little moans punctuating the steady creak of their bed.

“I got you, baby boy,” Dean murmured. He brushed his lips over Sam’s shoulder. Sam arched his back, sighing Dean’s name like a prayer. For all he knew, it could have been – Sam had been worshipping him in his own way for years now, not that Dean was much better. Sam was the closest thing to a deity Dean would ever have. They’d fought gods and legends all their lives, and the none even compared to Sam.

Sam who gave Dean everything he could want in life. Sam who was vengeful but kind. Sam who was patient, but firm. Sam would always be the only thing in any universe worthy of Dean’s worship.

Sam’s low, quiet moan pulled Dean from his thoughts. He leaned up, pressing another kiss to Dean’s mouth before brushing his lips over the curve of his shoulder. His teeth grazed every few inches as Dean continued to pump into him, drawing them closer to the climax promised the entire day.

And then it was Sam’s turn to stop, to shake his head just a little and push Dean away, just enough for Dean to know he wanted him to roll over. 

“You wanted my mouth all over you, right?”

Dean nodded, unable to talk around the lump in his throat at the sight of Sam leaning over him, hair everywhere, muscles rippling as he straddled Dean’s legs. He leaned down so he could mouth at Dean’s belly button until the muscles flexed and crunched, Dean’s hands curling into the sheets as he waited to see which direction Sam’s mouth would take. 

One flick of his tongue across the head of Dean’s cock, and he started up, scooting his body up Dean’s legs as his tongue licked over the lines of his stomach, over scars and freckles and a million places Sam had long since memorized. Dean groaned at the wet heat of it, at the gentle pressure and the sensation of being touched this way. It made him shiver, arching up to chase Sam’s tongue, to feel it in as many places as possible. 

Dean hissed when Sam caught one of his nipples between his teeth and tugged, a lightning bolt sparking down his spine. Sam grinned, that knowing fox-eyed look he always had when he knew he was getting to Dean, then moved on to the other nipple, teasing it with a curl of his tongue until it swelled and hardened. 

By the time his mouth got to Dean’s neck, Sam was straddling his lap, their dicks rubbing every now and then. 

“Wanna ride you,” he growled.

“Then do it,” Dean said simply.

“Tell me you want it.”

Dean ran his hands up Sam’s back, slid them into Sam’s hair as he sucked at Dean’s earlobe. “Always want you, baby boy. Want you so bad it hurts.”

Sam made a small noise against Dean’s neck, but didn’t move. He wanted more.

“Fuckin’ ride me, Sammy,” Dean continued, words tumbling out easily as he reached between their bodies for Sam’s cock. “Wanna watch it, wanna make you come all over me while you bounce up and down on my dick.”

Sam pushed himself up to sitting, pupils blown wide. Without another word, he pushed himself up on his knees enough to pull Dean’s cock into position, then sank down, inch by slow inch, taking his time.

Dean wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to scream and thrust his hips and drag Sam down until they were one person. But he didn’t. He couldn’t miss the way Sam's lips parted, the soft sounds of pleasure slipping from his mouth as he sank further down. So he kept his eyes open. He let his hands slide over Sam's thighs, the muscles quaking under his skin. Even with the hundreds of times they'd had sex this way, Sam shivered and whimpered like it was his first time all over. His hole clenched around Dean, squeezing in all the right ways. Dean dug his fingers into Sam's thighs, coaxing him forward.

"Feel so good, Sammy. Nice and tight, know you can take it."

"Dean--" Sam's voice was broken. He let himself sink down, taking the final few inches of Dean's cock, before slumping forward. 

Dean was up in a second, biting back a groan when his cock shifted. He pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead.

"Like that, baby boy?" Sam nodded, nuzzling against Dean's shoulder.

"Come on," Dean whispered. "Always look so damn pretty riding big brother." 

Sam whimpered. He dragged his hands up Dean's chest, letting his short nails scrape over his sensitive nipples before setting them on Dean's shoulders. He shoved then, pushing Dean onto the bed. Sam pinned him with his hands, using the leverage to lift almost entirely off his cock before sinking back down, slow and steady. He repeated his action again before Dean could protest, picking an even pace.

There were too many things to focus on. The curve of Sam’s throat, Adam’s apple bouncing as he moaned, low rumbles from his chest. Sam’s fingers digging into the meat of Dean’s shoulders, calluses from years of work scraping his oversensitive skin. The slick, hot slide of Sam’s thighs against his hips, the soft tug of their body hair. All of the sensations, sounds, sights, blended together with the tight heat of Sam riding him, brought him closer and closer to the edge.

The whole day stretched between them, the touches and the teasing and the hours of  _ almost there _ , and Dean groaned with it, let it all sweep through him until he was  _ hurting _ with it. 

“Sam...gotta come. Come on, come with me, baby boy…”

The pressure that was building was almost frightening, everything he’d been holding back all day threatening to erupt in a force that would break him. He reached for Sam’s cock, stroked a few times, watching as Sam hissed and bit his lip, looking very much like he was about to explode, too. 

Sam went quiet when Dean reached down and squeezed his balls with his free hand, thumb swiping over the head of his cock as he tightened his grip. His mouth opened in a silent ‘o’, dick throbbing in Dean’s hand so hard that it made Sam incapable of even shouting his pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby boy, come all over me.”

While Sam was coming, Dean forgot about his own orgasm, was able to handle Sam’s ass squeezing around his cock so that he could watch, so he could focus on the strain in Sam’s muscles, the veins popping in his forearms and the sweat rolling down his tan skin. Dean watched as his face contorted with the release, cheeks flushed, eyes trying to stay open, to stay on Dean. 

And then Dean felt it, the hot, sticky-sweet of Sam pulsing onto his fingers. He looked down to see Sam’s cock jerking, spilling just for him. Just for him.

That was what finally sent him over the edge. 

It ripped through him instantly, violently, unexpectedly, forcing Dean’s back to arch and Sam to fall forward, both of them just holding on. 

“God, Dean, I can feel you...can feel you coming…”

Dean let Sam’s voice pull him deeper into his orgasm, stream after stream inside Sam, everything he’d been holding back all day coming out in the clench of his jaw and the way he clawed at Sam. He couldn’t moan, couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything more than grip his brother against him, struggling to drag in breaths as his vision clouded, exploded in white and black. 

It wouldn’t stop – even as his balls began to ache – his cock twitched, dragging the aftershocks of his orgasm out longer. Maybe this was how he was going to die. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Sam wrapped in his arms, whispering in his ear, professing their love in their own special way.

But it ended, and Dean could breathe again. Every muscle in his body seemed to give out at once. He slumped down, his eyelids weighing a hundred pounds each as he struggled to keep them open, willing his eyes to focus on Sam.

Sam—Blissed out, sweating face. Damp hair stuck to his forehead, his lips parted, curved into a secret smile meant only for Dean.

He reached up, pushing a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. Sam’s eyes focused then, and his smile grew. “Wow,” he breathed.

Dean laughed, breathy, and shook his head. “Wow.”

Sam pulled off, grimacing a little, and flopped next to Dean, puffing air into his cheeks. “That was… Intense.”

Dean rolled over and pressed close to Sam. It wasn’t cuddling – he’d never admit it even if it was, even after all these years. He let his lips trace the damp curve of Sam’s shoulder, smiling when Sam turned his head so their lips could meet, soft and gentle.

“Today was perfect, you know?” Sam whispered against his lips.

“It was. It felt normal.”

Sam kissed him again before pulling back, smiling softly. “You know, we should shower, and get the rest of the laundry done.”

Dean groaned, kicking the blanket up over them. “It can wait.”

Sam snuggled down closer, turned so they could press their foreheads together and breathe into each other’s mouths. “I guess we can do it tomorrow. Maybe we can have another normal day.”

They kissed, slow and sweet and soft, like they almost never got the chance to do. 

“I’d  _ love _ another normal day, Sammy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! XOXO


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